


What Happened Concerning Honorhall Orphanage

by BetterBeMeta



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adoption, Gen, grelod the kind gets what's coming to her, overpowered dragonborn, the ambiguity of the dragonborn, the nature of dragons and orphans, what you do when you cant adopt every kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:23:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetterBeMeta/pseuds/BetterBeMeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the Last Dragonborn walks the land. That they're a he, or a she, or neither. That they're an elf, a human, or a beast. That they're the Thieves' Guild Master, the Arch-Mage of Winterhold, the Harbinger of the Companions, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. But not all of those can be true, can they?</p><p>What is true, however, is that the Dovahkiin dotes on orphans and takes them on field trips to see old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happened Concerning Honorhall Orphanage

It had all started when Aventus Aretino returned to Honorhall Orphanage. He'd stolen off into the night and stowed away on a cart bound for Windhelm, or so that boy had said. But all of the orphans agreed that, even if he was so very brave to defy Grelod the Kind, he'd probably be brought back soon enough. In a sack if he wouldn't stop kicking.

After all, how could a kid perform something like the Black Sacrament? Didn't it involve, like, dead bodies and stuff? It was all very scary, and despite Aventus' cold determination he was a gentle, sad sort of kid. Not at all a troublemaker.

But to everybody's surprise, he returned, with a friend.

It was an evening in First Seed, months after the boy's miserable flight. Riften was unexpectedly calm; no spring birds or lazy crows chattered, supper was tired and spare after the war, and between Black-Briar guards and the Imperial Legion strutting around dissuaded even the skooma fiends with the quietest feet. Even Brynjolf had packed his stall up and taken in for supper somewhere.

It was calm everywhere but the Honorhall Orphanage.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an _extra_  beating, do I make myself _clear?_ "

"Yes, Grelod..."

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever! No one needs you, no one wants you. That's why you're here."

"Yes, Grelod..."

"What do we say, children?"

"We love you. Thank you for your kindness, Grelod..."

That was when the door opened unexpectedly. There were no visitors to Honorhall Orphanage permitted. Yet, when the orphans saw _this_  visitor... who could stop _that?_

A tall figure filled the doorframe, strode heavily between the perfectly neat rows of stuffed-straw beds. Their armor was dark as coal, edged in glowing red runes, spiked like a bed of thorns. What of them was not clad in oil-glistening plate was covered in a voluminous cloak of shearling-lamb and black velvet. At their side was a sword, fanged like a daedric beast.

"You really shouldn't be here," said Constance Michel, holding her broom tightly. She ran pale as milk, but held her ground. The warrior merely looked at her, unknowable behind their blackened helmet. And, amazingly, Aventus Aretino peeked out from behind their legs.

"There! That's her! She's the one I told you about!"

The children gasped. Had Aventus really summoned an assassin-- an assassin who looked like _that?_

The figure began to advance, stepping forward slowly over the worn timbers. Their mail clinked with each footfall.

"Excuse me? What is the meaning of this?!" Grelod sneered, undaunted by what could have been a hostile Daedra. "Leave immediately! There are no children up for adoption."

 **"That is not why I am here** ," the being said.

The depth and force of the voice sent every child a-shiver, some even under their beds in fright.

"Oh? Then you have no reason to be here." Grelod returned. "What is your business here, trespasser?"

 **"I have issue with you, Grelod the Kind,"**  said the being. " **I have heard that you mistreat the children."**

"The children are treated however I want to treat 'em. That's their lot in life," said Grelod. "And yours is somewhere else!"

The being drew its wicked blade. **"I have come for you, Grelod. But I may be merciful. Mend your ways, and be punished later. Or refuse, and be punished now."**

"Gods, he really did it," Samuel whispered. Runa shushed him.

"I wanna watch," she said.

"There's no need for violence," pleaded Constance Michel. "Please, I'll call the guards."

The figure turned to her again.

 **"Is this woman just?"**  they asked. **"Would you be invoking justice, or the law?"**

"I..."

**"I see you are a kind person. Do not be this one's accomplice."**

"I understand," said Constance glumly. "Children, please stay close to me. We're going into the other room."

"No! I want to watch!"

"Get Grelod!"

"She hits us!"

"Make Grelod pay!"

"Be quiet, you urchins!" Grelod yelled. "You! Get out! Who are you to come barging in, to treat me this way!"

The figure was very close to her now. The boldness of Grelod faltered. No one knew, but she was actually a very superstitious Nord. But the trespasser did not raise its sword to her. It merely bowed her, leaned to her face, and said in its booming voice, 

**"I am Dovahkiin!"**

And she collapsed on the spot. The person put their mean-looking weapon away. And when Grelod did not move, or breathe, the children realized that Grelod the Kind had been scared to _death,_ so afraid to face justice for the evils of her life her heart had given out then and there.

"Is that it?"

"Is she..."

Constance Michel had to sit down. Francois helped her onto his bed. 

"Wow! She's dead! She's finally gone!"

"Hooray!"

"Thank you! Thank you, scary soldier person!"

The person, the Dovahkiin, did not seem so happy. They slumped, sighed, shook their armored helm. But, with a shrug, they turned to Constance Michel where she rubbed her eyes, knees crooked up on the too-short seat.

**"I am sorry for the trouble. But I am glad it ended this way, without blood. Take this for your pains, and expect more."**

They produced a sack stuffed with more septims than Honorhall had seen in two years.

"I... I don't know what to say," she said, baffled. "Thank you. I... was not expecting such generosity from an... an assassin."

 **"I am not an assassin. I am Dovahkiin,"**  said the Dovahkiin. **"And, if you consent, from this point onward I shall be the childrens' benefactor."**

And there really, really was no reason to turn them down.

\--

With Constance installed as the new Headmistress, no one planning or attending Grelod's speculative funeral, and the philanthropy of a fantastically wealthy and incredibly dangerous dragon-slayer, Honorhall Orphanage transformed into a decidedly different place. No more beatings. Three square meals a day with real meat and fresh vegetables. Playtime outside in the safer part of the city for as long as the children wanted. Regular lessons without any humiliating punishments at all. New shoes and clothes, in any color the children wanted. Toys and games, even paint imported from Cheydinhal.

The Dovahkiin visited the Orphanage regularly, each time bringing precious gifts for each of the children. The best gift of all was when they brought a young couple, who adored Runa and adopted her on the spot.

They also brought new children to the Orphanage, found and taken in on their travels. Each one had a new story about the Dovahkiin's adventures, and even those already at the orphanage longed to go with the Dovahkiin on one of their trips. They owned a house in every hold, rumors said. They were a Thane in every court. How this was possible was a shocking mystery, almost as mysterious as their true appearance. For the Dovhakiin never took off their armor, they bathed in private, and hardly referred to their self in any way other than "Dovahkiin."

"They're so cool!" Hroar said "Even if I don't get adopted, the Dovahkiin is the best father ever!"

"Mother! They made that great soup. And they fixed my doll!" said Blaise happily. 

"Why can't they be both?" added Sofie quietly, watering her potted flowers with an earthen cup. "Neither?"

"I guess," said Hroar. "But still! They are the toughest ever!"

"When I was in Whiterun, I saw them coming out of that Companions hall a lot-- Jor... Jorrvaskr!," added Lucia. "Yeah. I think they're the leader!"

"No way!" said Samuel. "There's no way they could have so much money that way. I saw them bossing Brynjolf around the other day, and remember when they snuck up and surprised us with new toys last week? They've got to be a thief!"

"That has to be true!" said Britte, who had come only recently to the orphanage with her twin. "I told them about my Da yelling and hitting me and Sissel, and they turned up the next day with proof it happened and the guards took Da away! The only way they could have gotten it was if they broke into our house and stole it. I bet they're the leader of the whole Thieves Guild! No one's that good!"

"I dunno," said her twin Sissel, who was studying some brand-new magic books. "They brought me some things from Winterhold, and they even said I could go study there when I'm older. I think they're a wizard... a really strong one!"

Alesan broke the crust of the bread he was going to share with Sissel, studying his numbers while the girl did more difficult work. "I saw them do magic once. They stopped a whole storm off the coast of Dawnstar just by yelling at it!"

"No! That's not magic! That's not how you do it!"

"Well, what else could it be?" he said. "I think they're the Arch-Mage!"

"You're all wrong," said Aventus, who had been silent the whole time, reading. Ever since the incident, he had grown happier, but still had a pang of sadness in his eyes. "They're an assassin. From the Dark Brotherhood. Did you all forget or something? They came when _I_ summoned them!"

"But they said they weren't one!"

"Of course they'd say that," said Britte smartly. "Killing people's illegal! Duh!"

"They're very nice for an assassin," said Sofie. "I know they kill dragons, though. Did you know? When I told them... I didn't have parents, they asked if they could give me a big hug. I knew right away they weren't bad even though they dress scary."

"I wonder what they look like." Samuel said. "I bet they're an elf. People don't like elves much, so that's why they hide their face."

"No way they're an elf!" said Hroar. "Elves are wimpy."

"Are not!" Sissel said. "And that's racist!"

"You're racist!"

"That's not how it works!" Sissel said. "you just learned that word today, you don't even know what it means!"

"I bet they're an Argonian," said Blaise. "I saw them swim once, they swam all the way down to the docks across the river, in full armor. Nobody swims like that."

"That's dumb. Where's their tail and snout?"

"I don't know! Maybe they're small. Or underneath the cloak?"

"What if they're a Khajiit?"

"That's just silly."

"But they make really good sweets!"

Constance Michel walked into the room, holding a bundle of brand-new furs and small-sized cloaks and coats. "Children? Are you all here? Is anyone out playing?"

"No," several answered, a few "nope" tossed in. 

"Well, I have a few announcements," she said gently. "First is that we have a new friend coming here to live with us. Please be nice to her. River-Stones? You can come in now, dear."

A small Argonian girl peeked into the room, nose-first. Then tail. Then she emerged shyly from the front room, wringing her claws with nerves. "Hi," she said. "It's... nice to meet you all."

"Hi! Wow! Where did you come from?"

"Don't be scared!"

"Very nice, all of you. River-Stones, would you please take a seat? You'll have a chance to make friends very soon, in just a minute."

The young Argonian obediently sat cross-legged by the fire and warmed her hands. Lucia gave her a blanket.

"The second announcement is that there will be a trip," said Constance. "The Dovahkiin has arranged for anyone who wants to go with them on a mountain-climbing trip. It will be very cold, but you will get to see the view all the way up the Throat of the World, they said. It will take a few days, because you all are still children, but they told me they have a way to ensure safety and camp comfortably even on the snowy mountain. I will be going, and there will be several others coming as guards as well. Who wants to go?"

"Me!"

"I do!"

"Yes!"

"Well, it will be cold... but snow-men! The highest snow-men in the world!"

In the end, even Aventus Arentino decided to go. By the time the Dovahkiin arrived, all the children were bundled up with their things and ready for an adventure. Constance, who seemed doubtful, conceded to the magical quality of the Dovahkiin. With them, all things seemed possible, no matter how outlandish.

" **This will be a fun field trip,"**  said the armored champion, leading the parade of children out of Riften and to a nearby caravan commissioned just for the occasion. " **And at the end, there is a surprise for you, something few others have ever seen."**

\--

Thanks to the Dovahkiin's Thu'um, the normally-lashing winds on the mountain quieted to a light breeze, and the warm springtime air bloomed the mountain's slopes with a carpet of flowers. Even above the snow line, there were no wolves or trolls to be found and the warm sun shone on the children's slow hike up the Ten Thousand Steps. Each of them counted on the way, but eventually either lost their place or got a different result. At night, one of the accompanying adults, Aranea, cast a spell of warming on their camp to allow comfortable sleep even in the frozen night. It was a spell she had mastered, she said, as keeper of the Shrine of Azura-- and only able to camp at its icy base.

But, after several days of leisurely travel, games, and plenty of snow-fights up the mountain slope, they finally arrived at a grey and somber fortress near the peak. Constance bid them be quiet in the halls; the Greybeards did not speak lightly, so they too must honor their custom. It was perhaps the only honest incarnation of the who-can-be-quietest game, ever. Arentino inevitably won though.

Beyond High Hrothgar, the Dovahkiin cleared the howling blizzard that blocked the path high to the peak.

" **LOK VAH KOOR!"**

 _"_ Wow!"

"The sun! The sun came out!"

"How did you do that?!"

" **I am Dovahkiin,"**  said the Dovahkiin with extreme satisfaction.

However, what they met at the peak was beyond belief. 

"Oh my!" said Constance. "Dragons! I... Dovahkiin, is it... is this safe?! Are they..."

 **"Paarthurnax is a friend,"**  they said. **"I would like the children to meet him, and his followers."**

"I... all right. Well, if it's safe, then all right. But please, be careful."

 **"There is no safer place in all of Skyrim than right here,"**  said the Dovahkiin. **"Grandmaster. I have brought you a gift. Come, see."**

Each child stared in awe, in a little fear, as the ancient dragon winged broken-strokedly down from his perch to land in the snow with a heavy beat.  The creature craned his neck like a huge bird, meeting them obliquely with an eye to the side. He surveyed the array of young travelers heaped in furs. 

 ** _"Drem Yol Lok, Dovahkiin_ ,"** said the great dragon, his voice deeper than the world's reaches.  **"These _kiirre_ , they are yours?"**

 **"They belong to themselves,"**  said the Dovahkiin. **"But I hope I am their friend."**

Hroar pulled on the Dovahkiin's cloak with a nervous tug, pointing to the surrounding rocks. "Hey, uh... there are more! Look! There are more dragons!"

And it was true. Several of the surrounding crags hid the curves of serpent necks, the folds of wings. Their spines and horns emulated the jagged landscape, studded with icicles. More dragons were watching, silent. Constance Michel looked like she was about to faint.

 **"Do not be alarmed, young one. They are my students,"**  said the great Paarthurnax. " **And they will remember their manners, if they wish to remain so."**

"Yessir," said Hroar weakly, staring into the dragon's milky eyes.

" **You claim these to be a gift, _Dovahkiin_ , but I do not see the purpose," **said Paathrunax. **"I suspect you do not speak plainly."**

 **"You are right,"** said the Dovahkiin. " **They are a gift for you, that I will not relinquish. When last we parted, you vowed to spread the Way of the Voice among all _dovah_. I have vowed to do my own work, its mirror among _joorfron_."**

**"Speak."**

**"I am not** _ **dovah**_ **, but my soul is of your kind. I feel** ** _suleyksmoliin_ \-- the power-lust. I, too, have found a way to confront it,"** said the Dovahkiin. **"The vice is in apathy, in greed, in disregard of the young and the weak. Where your great form denies you to walk among _joor_ , I am small."**

The children looked upon the Dovahkiin and had never before considered that such a being could ever be "small."

" **Your solution is unique, intriguing,"**  said Paarthurnax. " **I would hear more of it."**

**"Your place is here, at _Monahven_. Mine takes me across the land, and I cannot settle in seclusion. But I have heeded your warnings. Instead of forfeiting my power, my wealth and horde, as I cannot do this, I share it. I could easily crush my fellows, but I will not. Instead I will give my power to them, as you shared yours with the small long ago."**

It was incredible, surreal, beyond imagining to hear a dragon _laugh._

 **"Perhaps in time, you shall have your own students,"** said Paarthurnax.

" **I am Dovahkiin. Anything is possible,"** said the Dovahkiin, " **At present, please accept this _bonaarzin_ \-- our pilgrimage."**

**"Very well. I accept gladly. Children, you may approach. You have nothing to fear from me."**

And yet, no child among the group moved, or even could be heard to breathe. Such was the pressure of not obeying a dragon's command that even the air could hardly bear it. Until, at last, one girl stood forth and approached the ancient and grey dragon.

"Sissel! Don't be stupid! Stay here!" her sister scolded. "Don't think you're so special!"

"Shut up, Britte," her sister said, choking on her words. "I'm not afraid. This dragon, he's a good dragon. I know it."

" **And how do you know this, _bronkiir,_ to overcome your fear of me?"** asked Paarthurnax, eyes glittering like molten glass.

"I saw you in a dream, once," said Sissel, voice wavering. "And I knew you were good. Just, old. And a little lonely, and sad. What did you do that you are so sorry for?"

**"Many things. Tell me your name, _bronkiir_."**

"I'm Sissel," the girl said. "My twin is Britte."

" **Sissel, _kro fen kos. In miin nahgah_ ," **Paarthurnax rumbled, and the words rang true to the very bone. " **One day, you will be a mighty mage, and your foresight shall shape great fates. You will be** ** _Krosissel_ , ****the sorcerer who has known sorrow. Keep this name for that time."**

"What? That's not fair!" her sister cried out, betrayed. "How come she gets all that?!"

**"You will learn temperance, _kiir kah aus_. The glory of your _briinah_ does not diminish your own. You are _Brittmunax,_ and may it mean beauty-from-cruelty, and not beauty-of-cruelty. I, too, have been cruel. And I, too, struggle to define my own self separate from power over others. Such power was the only way I once saw and knew, and I suspect the same has been true for you."**

Then, something happened that never happened, that no one expected. Britte cried. She never cried. But now she did. Not all at once, First, a stunned silence. Then, a sniffle. Soon sobbing into her mittens. Great big snotty tears. She ran up boldly, fear entirely forgotten, and embraced the ancient dragon right on the snout, weeping. "I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I'm sorry, I'm so weak. I wish I knew better, but... I can't help it, I don't want to be pushed around, so I... I'm bad... I want to do better but ... no one's ever understood, no one... but you _know, you know what it's like..._ "

"Oh, Britte," said her sister.

And as the other children worked up the courage to approach the great Dragon, Paarthurnax lifted his great head to face the Dovahkiin.

 **"Perhaps you'd like to adopt them,"** the Dovahkiin suggested.


End file.
